


Under Azure

by vanitaslaughing



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst and Tragedy, Azure Dragoon!Aymeric, Gen, Lord Commander!Estinien, Mentions of several other characters, race and gender of wol left ambiguous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 15:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15246267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanitaslaughing/pseuds/vanitaslaughing
Summary: “Perhaps introductions are not in order after all, but if you would permit me, old friend. The Holy See’s most valued and esteemed Azure Dragoon, Aymeric of House Borel. Alphinaud Leveilleur of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and head of the Crystal Braves. And, last but certainly not least, the Warrior of Light.”All the Azure Dragoon does is let out a soft laugh.“And, of course as you are liable to do, you forget yourself when it comes to introductions – and knowing you, Lucia was not lying. Scions, may I introduce the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, adoptive son of the previous Azure Dragoon and my good friend, Estinien Bale.”





	Under Azure

**Author's Note:**

> [based on @SmolMiqote's very lovely AU idea.](https://twitter.com/SmolMiqote/status/1016197025803788288)  
>  egged into writing it by my VERY BAD ENABLING FRIENDS.
> 
> i cant believe im breaking my ff14 fic retirement due to Immense Depression with this. you monsters.

The first time they meet the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, he doesn’t even deny that Ishgard profits from the agreement just as much, if not even more from it than Mor Dhona and the Scions do. After all, he says almost nonchalantly with his surprisingly room-filling voice, the Keeper of the Lake still proves a danger to the Holy See.

“For dragons, you see, are not truly dead until you get rid of their eyes,” he says, and for a moment the almost ironic iciness of his fades and gives way to the same simmering anger that all Ishgardians seem to carry with them.

He leaves the room afterwards; it is his second-in-command who bows to Alphinaud with a frown on her face.

“Pray excuse him. Him speaking the truth all aside; his temperament seems better suited for Azure Dragoon.”

The Warrior of Light merely tilts their head in slight confusion. Alphinaud meanwhile reassures Lucia that no offence was taken, and that he very well understood where the Lord Commander was coming from.

“There are all sorts of temperaments and moods when it comes to the leaders of Eorzea,” the Scion says as he bows to the lady knight, “and despite all, Ser Estinien’s seems to be befitting a station like his.”

* * *

The first time they meet the Azure Dragoon is not long thereafter. Though perhaps ‘not long’ is the wrong word to choose; they chanced upon one another after the encounter with Shiva had been settled and everything went as agreed between the Holy See and Mor Dhona. The Warrior of Light had spotted a suspicious figure not too far away from the wagon they were waiting for, and chose to approach them rather than let disaster happen.

They’re surprised when the figure is a dragoon of Ishgard out in the open like this, completely unaccompanied entirely. Ishgardians were not liable to wander the snows of Coerthas on their own like this unless they absolutely had to. This was the first time they saw an official dragoon in full armour, too. They are even more surprised to find Alphinaud not too far away, talking agitatedly to a handful Crystal Braves who stood beside the carriage as its driver is checking on a Chocobo.

The man has his visor down almost the entire time, but his voice is clear and surprisingly gentle for someone who looks like they could take on an entire army of heretics by themselves. Even his smiles, just about the only thing either of the Scions see, are warm and welcoming – almost the polar opposite of the Lord Commander.

“Oh, where are my manners!”

He removes the helmet, and even Alphinaud’s breath hitches for a second. That man looks stunningly genuine for an Ishgardian, with a smile that even reached his eyes. The only other person they ever saw that from was Haurchefant Greystone of Camp Dragonhead.

“It is a pleasure to meet the Bane of Ultima and the leader of the Crystal Braves. I am Aymeric, son of House Borel and Azure Dragoon of Ishgard.”

Before either of them can react to him having just revealed himself as the actual Azure Dragoon, he excuses himself and nearly sets out in a sprint. Whatever it was that he spotted, it must have been important to get his undivided attention.

* * *

When they meet again, it is under more dire circumstances. The Warrior of Light is tired as they lean against their weapon, a staff of some sort this time, and the room’s atmosphere is heavy and dire. It isn’t until the conversation went on for a while, mostly talk about the incident with the Keeper of the Lake that the Warrior claims ended with the wyrm not awakening at all despite the stirring, that the Lord Commander sighs deeply.

“I see. Well, it is good news that that wyrm in particular will not be joining the fight. It will still leave us severely disadvantaged unless we can figure something out. I have seen first-hand what an excellent tactician you are, Scion – I would introduce you to someone whose combat experience will benefit us as we plan this together.” He sits up straighter, turns to Lucia and nods to her.

The woman leaves for no more than a few seconds, and returns with a man both Alphinaud and the Warrior recognise. He recognises them as well, and his dire face lights up a little – he had likely been expecting someone like the infamous Lord Urianger when he heard that he would be working with Scions. After all, Alphinaud was officially involved with the Crystal Braves and the Warrior of Light owed their allegiance to the land first and the Scions second.

The Lord Commander watches this for a few seconds before he lets out a… snort. Alphinaud startles at the sound and turns to look at the man. He does look rather amused sitting there, watching the most elite warrior of Ishgard and the saviour of Eorzea nod at each other like old friends.

“Perhaps introductions are not in order after all, but if you would permit me, old friend. The Holy See’s most valued and esteemed Azure Dragoon, Aymeric of House Borel. Alphinaud Leveilleur of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and head of the Crystal Braves. And, last but certainly not least, the Warrior of Light.”

All the Azure Dragoon does is let out a soft laugh.

“And, of course as you are liable to do, you forget yourself when it comes to introductions – and knowing you, Lucia was not lying. Scions, may I introduce the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, adoptive son of the previous Azure Dragoon and my good friend, Estinien Bale.”

There’s a hint of a sincere smile on the Lord Commander’s face for a moment; it vanishes nearly immediately and is replaced by his generally dire expression. Well, the Warrior supposes as Aymeric goes to stand beside Estinien, it was fun while the small diversion lasted.

They’re here to talk about matters concerning the Dragonsong War, after all. Not pleasantness and a small glimpse into the Lord Commander being anything but a cold man.

* * *

He looks strangely pleased to be here for someone who clearly does not enjoy being around groups.

Like something he had waited for for a long time was happening, and that enjoyment seemed to spread to his peers.

At least that’s what they think before they are whisked away and the awful events of the evening take their fateful beginning in the sultana’s chambers. Poor Ser Estinien, poor Ser Lucia. Whatever they were telling each other before the situation got turned on their head got stuck in their throats. And then they are to leave because of an emergency.

* * *

Surprisingly enough, it is the Lord Commander who eventually comes through for them – or so Haurchefant says when he _finally_ has good news after Ul’dah. The Holy See, closed off to foreigners for so long, will give the two Scions shelter until their name is either cleared or until someone brings conclusive evidence that they were indeed involved in whatever crime is being pinned on them. Alphinaud has been too depressed for it lately, but the single time they met Aymeric while cooped up in Camp Dragonhead, away from prying eyes, the Dragoon noted that whatever crime they were being accused of was something no one had heard about.

“Therefore, as Estinien would say were he not bound to the study with his lips sewn shut, it stinks of someone attempting to sell liquefied Chocobo dung as hot cocoa. I am fairly certain you are falsely being accused, and your accuser cannot step forward with the crime you have committed because everyone would see it for the lie it is if they did. All you need is wait until the blizzard blows over.”

Either way, it is Estinien who uses his position to make the other High Houses agree to House Fortemps taking in the two wayward Scions.

He waits for them beside the servant Haurchefant promised would be waiting for them once they arrive in Foundation, a sly grin on his face as he welcomes them to Ishgard.

“The Azure Dragoon gives his regards, but he was needed in the field. Unable to witness your arrival, he bade me to,” and the grin vanishes as he rolls his eyes, “remind you that your health in these weather conditions is more important than anything, and that warm beverages oft do the trick.”

With that he waves and vanishes off – they later pass an annoyed-looking Lucia who commandeers a small group of knights around. The servant says that this is not an unusual sight; the Lord Commander did receive minor training in the art of how Dragoons fought and nowadays used it to escape his duties when he got too fed up.

“Between the three of us,” the man laughs as they ascend the stairs, “the Azure Dragoon has been helping him hone that skill. They are closer than one would think, after all.”

Alphinaud agrees to that, his lethargy gone after seeing the Holy See in all its splendour. A shred of normalcy; he always did enjoy taking in the sights. Even if this man is merely leading them to Fortemps Manor.

Perhaps that is why the Azure Dragoon teaches the Lord Commander how to jump like his fellow knights.

* * *

Much to everyone’s surprise, Aymeric immediately mellows down after a short outburst at Iceheart. She introduces herself as Ysayle, and though they spend a few bells openly hostile around each other, they both mutually agree that perhaps such hostilities would be better off left beside the road for as long as they are allies on said road. It doesn’t take the leader of the heretics long to change his opinion on her; they are both passionate about what they do. And while he voices his scepticism about her claims, stating that the Echo is a power that he does not possess and that he will hold onto the truth Ishgard taught him until the Warrior of Light can prove otherwise, he does not challenge her on her claims again. In return, she keeps her scathing comments to herself, and all in all it becomes a rather fascinating trip through the Dravanian Forelands.

Ysayle’s knowledge about the area makes Aymeric ask her about it at some point as they continue their path to Tailfeather. She ends up confessing that after many things went wrong in her life she washed up here, in the hands of the hunters for a while. They treated her like someone worthy of life when she had nothing else to life for, she says eventually and falls silent.

Aymeric merely nods, looks like he wants to put a hand on her shoulder for a moment. Alphinaud notes the movement with a crease of the eyebrows, and the Warrior of Light tilts their head a little.

But he doesn’t.

Instead he leans backwards a little.

“I suppose we are quite similar in that regard – you, I, even the Lord Commander himself. The war took our homes; and somehow we stand where we fell. Different strokes, different directions. All decided by the Fury, a set place on the field. Who is to say I couldn’t have been Iceheart in your place? Or Estinien the Azure Dragoon?”

Ysayle blinks a few times at that, and eventually settles for a soft smile.

“Indeed. The pieces lie where they fell. It is up to us to decide the game – hopefully without bloodshed.”

That is what they set out for after all, Aymeric says. It continues being his mantra as they follow Ysayle after Tailfeather, when they run into the Nonmind. It is his mantra as they approach Anyx Trine, but it is plain to see that he is terrified.

The heretic calls for a stop before they ascend the stairs leading into the dragon Vidofnir’s stronghold. She raises a hand and points at Aymeric.

“You. Perhaps it would be wiser to stay behind. Your nervous jittering will be driving the dragons mad before they even see you for who you are.”

“… Lady Iceheart, I am quite afraid that it is way too late for this. They know I am here, whether I want them to or not – I am the Azure Dragoon. Surely you have not forgotten that it means I carry the Eye of Nidhogg with me, as a diversionary tactic. It will keep his wrath from the city for as long as I am not within its walls. Or at least, the brunt of the seething rage. Unfortunately it means that other dragons know where I am at all times.”

Ysayle puts her hands on her hips. “Then why are you shaking so? Clearly you are already used to it.”

Alphinaud tries to step between them, but Aymeric merely starts laughing.

“A war remains a war. War orphans do not suddenly lose the hatred or fear they accumulated when they lost their parents to the opposing side. And while hunger did my birth mother in, it were dragons who killed the Lord and Lady de Borel. Their adoptive son, however, made it out alive. How can you _demand_ I am not terrified and shaking with rage when I have to be civil around members of the selfsame race that killed the two people without whom I would have died in a ditch ‘ere I was five?”

She falls silent after that. The Azure Dragoon continues shaking in silence, though his voice is surprisingly clear when he backs her up when Vidofnir approaches them and demands to know she brought the Ishgardian bane of dragons to Anyx Trine, a place of peace and tranquillity before the silent resting place of her kin. They are here on a mission for truth and peace, Alphinaud claims, and both Iceheart and Azure Dragoon nod in unison. It does at least divert the negative atmosphere a little.

They still are not welcomed to the brood.

Instead Aymeric sees them off with a nervous smile as the Warrior of Light and the Lady Iceheart leave for the Onemind’s hive in an attempt to prevent a summoning – or smother the flame before it takes Anyx Trine in a furious blaze.

Maybe there is hope yet for Ishgardians and heretics, Alphinaud muses before he, too, succumbs to worry.

* * *

“Leave her. Like this, she cannot help us, nor can we help her.”

The first time they hear the Azure Dragoon say something that seems to be something that the Lord Commander would say is perhaps the most cruel one. They both know it’s true, but Alphinaud especially has come to enjoy her company. How delightfully passionate she was; how that passion eventually brought her closer to them than anything else could have back in Moghome. That last stretch of the journey had more felt like a homecoming.

Only for them to find their home in shambles.

Aymeric turns his face to the ominous aetheric thundercloud that seemingly consumes a vast stretch of the skyline up here in the Churning Mists.

“Unfortunate though that may be, it leaves us with one option remaining. The one choice I did not wish to make, for I believed a peaceful solution could be reached if we just trusted in it enough. Pointless optimism in the face of war, as Estinien would call it, I suppose. The only choice left to us is what the Lord Commander said was to be the very last resort I ought to turn to.”

To kill Nidhogg.

They return to the Holy See, with Aymeric nearly immediately excusing himself to give his friend their full report. Alphinaud at least trusts the man to truthfully relay the information, and instead turns at the bigger issue on hand. Similar to Garuda, and while he and the Warrior of Light wander the streets of Foundation he wistfully sighs and says that he wishes Master Garlond were here.

Perhaps it is fate that they run into Biggs and Wedge not even a few heartbeats later, with the two of them accompanied by a man whose face looks decidedly noble and reminds the Warrior of Francel of House Haillenarte. Biggs and Wedge almost enthusiastically throw themselves into the work presented to them like this; an airship that can pierce the natural storm and the strong aetheric sweeps within said storm that surround what Aymeric called the Aery. They settle in that chaotic energy of Skysteel Manufactory while Biggs and Wedge go about their business of outfitting two so-called Manacutters. One for them, one for Aymeric.

Eventually the head of Skysteel settles next to them, a rather familiar kind of mug in hand. They look at it for a moment, then at the Elezen.

All he does is laugh.

“Unfortunately he was running late after preparing these, but my brother came by a little flustered mere seconds ago and bade me give these to you on Lord Haurchefant’s behalf. Had I known about this beforehand I would have offered the good man a hand, but… Well, the less said about this, the better. Francel gives you his regards. And I you my thanks, Warrior of Light. It is all thanks to you that my darling brother still lives, and the accusations against our family have stopped.” A wistful look up at the ceiling, a sigh. He hands over the mug and stands back up. “Would that I could have thanked you earlier; but unfortunately you had left the city ‘ere I had the chance to. So, thank you. Without you, I would have lost another brother.”

They sip on the hot cocoa for a while, listening in to the animated discussion Wedge and the man of House Haillenarte have. It doesn’t take too long before another visitor drops by, this time almost entirely unannounced and coming down the staircase from the top.

They raise an eyebrow when Lord Commander Estinien Bale sits down next to them with a sly grin on his face. All he does is put a finger on his lips to signal silence, and they tilt his head at him.

“I will be gone before I can take too much of your time. I was merely curious about whatever it is that Haillenarte and Garlond’s top engineers are hatching in our fair city. That, and I wanted to thank you for something.”

They snort at him and tell him that he isn’t the first person to come thank them on this fine day. He only furrows his eyebrows until he remembers the false heresy claims that had shaken House Haillenarte not too long ago. He nods.

“Well, I merely wanted to thank you for standing beside Aymeric. He does not let many people into his personal space – even less so than I do – but you being there definitely helped soothed his nerves. And mine in turn. For Aymeric at his worst is… something to beholden, but something to mostly fear rather than something to be appreciated. Truly, he would not have made it that far without you and the young Master Alphinaud.”

Aforementioned Alphinaud now joined the discussion about something, likely an aether converter of some sort, as if he has any idea what he’s talking about. The two of them watch that discussion go on for a few moments before the Lord Commander sighs wistfully.

“Ah, the youth these days. Is that how milord father felt when he took me in?”

Right, Aymeric did mention that Estinien too had been adopted by someone. They don’t quite dare asking, especially since Estinien looks at it with a gaze that seems… sad. Longing, somehow. But he leaves before they can work up the courage to ask about what he meant.

He gives them a pat on the shoulder rather than a real goodbye.

Somehow it doesn’t feel that wrong.

* * *

It hadn’t really occurred to them before, but they had not had the pleasure of fighting alongside Aymeric properly before. In the Amphitheatre it had been too cramped for him to properly excel in his field. While still using his skills to reach places or get things from high up, they hadn’t really encountered anything that warranted the full use of the Azure Dragoon’s power.

Their assault against Nidhogg seemingly had not even remotely affected the dragon. It hadn’t been until this very moment that they realised just how mighty Midgardsormr and his offspring were when they were at full power.

But still Aymeric leaps into battle with a cry of war that could have pierced the heavens were they not standing in an abyss that even the heavens had abandoned. He had used a good chunk of his energy to shield them from a blow earlier, but still he crosses the distance in a single bound, rams his lance into the dragon’s back and before they can properly react, they’re both gone.

Estinien’s voice echoes in their mind a little as they anxiously search the thunderclouds for any sign of Aymeric or Nidhogg.

That an Aymeric at his worst is something to behold.

And truly, he is something to behold when the dragon comes crashing down and all he does is slam his foot on its head. Then jabs his lance into the eye. Perhaps it is a mercy that their Echo kicks in just in this very moment – the last thing they wanted to see was Aymeric prying an eye from a dead dragon’s skull.

And with the vision comes the confirmation that Ysayle had spoken the truth; the confirmation that not a single dragon had lied to them. Aymeric stands beside them when their attention snaps back to the current time rather than visions of times long past. The helmet has come off. The dragoon is bathed in blood – whether it is his own or Nidhogg’s is hard to tell.

“… Well, those are some stains I’ll never be able to get rid of, no matter how much I scrub. Are you quite alright, friend?”

It seems… an oddly anticlimatic end for the Dragonsong War. The lies still perceived as truths, and the final victim being the dragon whose heart they had broken.

But they still take the Azure Dragoon’s hand when he offers it to them. And all he says is that he has to talk to Hraesvelgr before they can return to the Holy See victorious.

* * *

The Lord Commander drums his fingers on the table.

“He’s been gone for too long. So has Lucia, for that matter.”

In the room stand the Warrior of Light, Alphinaud Leveilleur and Haurchefant Greystone. The Lord Commander has one hand on the table, drumming it almost _anxiously,_ while the other is curled into a fist in his lap. Before anyone had been able to tell him otherwise, the Azure Dragoon had said that he needed to talk to the Archbishop – which was something that Alphinaud seemingly did not understand. In the evening Estinien had sent his second in command to find out where the Azure Dragoon had gone.

Now it is morning, and neither knight nor dragoon are around. The white-haired man with his steely grey eyes looks like he has not caught a wink of sleep. Haurchefant excuses himself after a while, says that he needs to return to the manor to finish his reports to his lord father. Estinien dismisses him with a rough gesture, and then it is only the three of them.

Eventually Alphinaud clears his throat; the Lord Commander looks at them.

“Pray excuse my… foolish questions, but I assumed that the Order of Dragoons had nothing to do with the Fury’s teachings?”

“They indeed do not. We are not Ala Mhigo. Your point?”

“… Why would the Archbishop grant audience to the Azure Dragoon, then? Unless he were to, say, relinquish his position like your lord father did.”

Estinien stops drumming his fingers on the table. He _grimaces._

“Young Master Alphinaud, this absolutely and sincerely is the _one_ story I should not be telling you. But considering that you and the Bane of Ultima both are left out of the picture, very well.” He takes a deep breath. “There are rumours that Aymeric is the bastard-born son of his Eminence. Baseless chatter, mind, but… the Archbishop does have a soft spot for him. Enough of a soft spot to… warrant rumours. Just as there were rumours that I, too, was the illegitimate son of some higher-up. Because a base-born war orphan of all things normally does not attain the position of Lord Commander.”

They had heard that before. Chatter, as Estinien called it. How a simple farmer’s son had managed to worm his way to the top.

“But my birth status I can confirm openly and freely; I am a shepherd’s son and will always be one. It was skill that gave me my position, not relations to anything or anyone.”

In fact, no one seems to _like_ Estinien. Everyone says that he’s a genius in his own regard, scarily dedicated and devoted to the Holy See and the Fury, but seemingly channelling his boundless hatred into something more productive. But no matter how productive he is, in the end it is his character that is foul. Or so the people said.

Aymeric only talked about Estinien in the highest tones; affectionate and gentle.

Estinien seems to think of the Azure Dragoon the same way, at the very least.

“Aymeric on the other hand cannot confess that he is a bastard-born son of the Archbishop in the event that he is; for it would not ruin the Archbishop’s reputation but utterly destroy his own and what is left of both his late mother’s and his late adoptive parents’ reputation. Not everyone in the Holy See is one Haurchefant Greystone. And if he is not, then he will have to face the wrath of a people who will decide that he got his position through trickery. While there have been Azure Dragoons that were chosen because of their station and some others that simply bought the position, you and I can both attest to his skill with a lance.”

Alphinaud tilts his head a little. “And why has he been… gone for too long, then?”

Estinien smashes a hand on the table. The Warrior jumps and Alphinaud shirks away, both of them startled at the sudden outburst.

All the tiredness seems gone from the man’s face as he glares at his own face. His entire face is twisted in rage, and only now they both realise that the hair he normally keeps in a ponytail falls freely over his eyes this morning.

“Knowing Aymeric, he’s going to confront the man about it. Such a confrontation should take a few bells at best if the man is receptive to the truth. But this… this has been a day! Aymeric is _not_ foolish enough to let himself be captured without a fight, but we are dealing with the Heaven’s Ward! And his… injuries.”

Unfortunately, Estinien’s fears become a harsh truth when Lucia storms a few bells later.

* * *

The desk cracks violently under the two fists that come crashing down.

“Those bloody whoresons!”

Both Aymeric and Lucia cringe at that, while Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light continue staring down at the floor. Numb, somehow.

Whatever beatings they took freeing Aymeric, losing Haurchefant had cost them more than physical injury. The mood had been the oppressive gloom of grief – and now Estinien managed to set the gloom aflame with his rage.

Before they can stop themselves they all agree that the Archbishop cannot get away with this. Though injured, Aymeric is quick to jump on the news that they will be tailing the airship to the Sea of Clouds. And while it look like Estinien wants to ask his friend to stay…

They stare at each other for a while at the airship landing. The Warrior of Light doesn’t want to interfere with that, while Alphinaud talks to the airship pilot.

They are waiting for the brewing argument between Azure Dragoon and Lord Commander, but it never comes. Instead Estinien puts both his hands on Aymeric’s shoulders, his grim expression melting into a gentle fondness the Warrior has not once seen on the man’s face. He even goes as far as to gently draw his thumb across a scratch on Aymeric’s face.

Then he lets go.

* * *

Aymeric holds himself together rather… impressively for a man who is chasing his own father. The only time the facade cracks is when the Garleans that had been tailing them catch up and Ysayle, mistress of the heretics and mother to a falsified image of the Lady Shiva, stops them at the cost of her life. He and Alphinaud both nearly go overboard as they rush to the side of the Enterprise that they see her fall from, both of them screaming her name; Alphinaud even stretching out a hand.

The journey left its scars on them all.

But Aymeric presses onwards still until he can go no further. Battered and bruised as he is, all he does is tell the Warrior of Light to go on.

He waves his adoptive father’s sword that he took up instead of his trusty lance before they left. “We’ll be joining you soon enough. Go!”

They leave.

All they can do is hope that Azys Lla does not taste the lifeblood of their companions as they march onwards, ever onwards, just as Aymeric and Alphinaud had nearly begged them to.

And all they can do is when Tiamat finishes her speech is sob into Midgardsormr’s scales as he carries them onwards. Ever onwards.

It is the father of dragons who reassures them that their friends will be fine. That nothing bad will happen here.

* * *

If only he had known that he would be wrong.

Archbishop Thordan – no, King Thordan – goes down horrified. They stand there numb for a moment before Aymeric arrives on the scene just in time to see the last few of the knights fade away. All he does is laugh, bitterly, almost full of hatred. Then he turns to the more important parts of this play. Something that he needed to do.

The two eyes of Nidhogg, reunited after so long, prove too much for Aymeric. Though a paragon of his kind, skilled and always in control, something makes him sink to his knees. There’s tears streaming down his face but before they can approach their only companion who reached them all the way down here, their only witness… no, their friend. It is Midgardsormr, his voice barely more than a whisper in the back of their mind, who urges them to flee.

Father and Chosen together leave this site of misfortune. They cling to him like a lifeline, and all he can do is wonder what had driven both his child and the dragoon to be so full of resentment.

For a moment they almost want to ask Midgardsormr if it would be okay to be let onto the Enterprise to cry in the arms of their friends, but they know better than this. The Holy See believes Nidhogg to be dead, just as they had considered their friends dead what felt like an eternity ago. But much like the Scions, Nidhogg returned against all odds. And Ishgard needs to know this.

Estinien needs to know this.

Anyone would believe the man to be heartless as he holds his speech that despite everything, their first course of action should be to mend their wounded and then attempt to build a bridge between dragons and humans. But the Warrior sees how he narrows his eyes, how his hands twitch before he walks away. That is not a man who is happy, that is not a man who expected any of these turns. They almost want to follow him, but once again it is the dragon who stops them. A nudge. Affectionate almost, like a father would nudge his child – were the father a dragon and the child a brittle mortal that might break under the pressure, at least.

And so they leave Estinien to his own devices.

Estinien’s own devices quickly turn out to be a complete overhaul of the city. He throws himself into the structural rebuilding of the entire ruling council with such vigour that some believe their Lord Commander has finally snapped. What they don’t see is the suffering behind the scenes. The one time the Warrior meets Estinien on his own he man looks positively miserable despite all the things he has accomplished in such a short time.

He looks like he’s been crying a lot. An image of absolute pity, one that reminds them of Alphinaud after the events in Ul’dah. Except that this time there is no Haurchefant to soothe the pain with his casually cheerful reassurances that everything is going to be fine. Thus, when Estinien confesses that this kind of reform has always been Aymeric’s dream beside the revenge for his dead parents thing, they simply smile at him.

Tell him that it’s going to be fine. That Aymeric will be fine. That the Holy See will be fine. That all these reforms are going this smoothly because they were long overdue and there is not a single person better suited for the rebuilding effort than Estinien.

They even believe it for a moment when Estinien smiles for a second.

* * *

The message that Estinien was assaulted within the city reaches them in a moment where they feel like nothing good exists in this world any longer. After all, Minfilia’s devotion to the planet at large led her to this place beside the Mothercrystal. And while something that befits Minfilia, all they feel is strangely empty now.

They almost expect Estinien to pass while they are on their way back, with a panicked Alphinaud fretting nearly the entire way. Lucia tells them he will be just fine despite all; and even his father returned from his post just to ensure Estinien’s stubborn personality does not interfere with his healing process.

It does not stop Estinien from appearing nonetheless when the drama within the city unfolds proper.

“If they want me to step down, so be it.”

He’s led in by a man the Warrior saw a few times around Coerthas, a Hyur they had considered much younger than he actually was. But next to the Elezen he had raised for a while the man looks like an old wreck. It is fascinating in a sense, because Alberic Bale is the picture-perfect example of a healthy man for his age. But the worry is written plain on his face, and Estinien… goodness, he looks pitiful. What had formerly looked like a tasteful mess only tells a story of anguish and pain now. For even a simple stab wound like this to take a man down, he must have been rather sick.

And Estinien looks the part.

They almost want to tell him to stop and return to bed, but against all better judgement he comes along to help the people taken captive as threat against him. He helps free them, and puts on a smile for every single one of them that thanks him and his companions profusely. He even goes as far as to accept the duel to buy them time to save the rest.

His legs finally give in when the man shoves the girl off the Vault. They steady him and grab the priest with the other hand to prevent him from jumping as well.

At least Vidofnir arrived just in time.

And though he still looks like a pitiful heap of skin and bone, this time his smile reaches his eyes as he thanks her for saving the child.

It immediately shatters when she tells him that her father bade her come here to warn them that Nidhogg was regaining his strength.

* * *

He’s fully healed by the time he wants the next step done, mercifully enough. While still not looking healthy, he at least reminds them of the man they met all this time ago as he lays out his plans of an official peace meeting between the dragons of Anyx Trine and the people of Falcon’s Nest. They offer themselves for the cause, because for once they feel like something can be accomplished and there is simply no way of reaching Minfilia as they are.

It is as if Lady Luck herself is against anything and everything that Estinien tries. An entire mob, and immediately all feathers were ruffled again. They don’t say it, but Emmanellain has definitely ruined a good chunk of progress with his panicked reaction. It is Lucia’s quick thinking that allows them to channel the negative energy into something a little more exciting. The tournament is fun, and though the emblem of House Fortemps weighs heavy on their shoulders, even the final bash with the recovered Raubahn is nothing more than the thrill of battle at its purest. The Ishgardian victory makes the people raise their weapons, all of them screaming in delight.

And even Estinien looks proud of his temple knights as they return one by one. Yes, even Emmanellain deserves the praise he receives.

It is Estinien’s voice, steady and deep and finally so much like the Lord Commander they had gotten to know in the last few months, that breaks the silence. “We need to hold that summit at the earliest convenience. Even yesterday would be too much time wasted.”

It is that selfsame clear but steady voice that carries the speech he prepared. Even Vidofnir seems mesmerised, especially once Estinien reveals what they had been working on. That new arch is stunning, and even the dragon herself seems lost in its beauty as Estinien turns to call for everyone’s support of this case.

Before he can do so, everything he built collapses. He barely manages to get out of the way as Vidofnir howls in pain, as her blood splatters the construct they are standing on and the arch that everyone had just been marvelling at.

Clearly without thinking twice he yanks a lance from a nearby temple knight and hurls it at whatever it is that is attacking Vidofnir.

That is the first time they see Aymeric again, and Estinien freezes entirely. All the fury with which he threw the lance vanishes immediately, leaves him staring at his friend with nothing short of fear in his eyes.

The fear changes to horror for a moment when the crowd starts calling for Nidhogg’s blood for what he had done to the first time in a thousand years that dragons and humans felt close to one another. The Warrior can only note how the horror vanishes into stern determination as he watches the distant point on the horizon that is Nidhogg returning to his lair to prepare for the final Chorus.

Estinien says nothing. He only curls his hands into fists and continues staring at the sky, the bloody chant drowning out everything, even his own thoughts.

* * *

“I had not… believed that this place would be such a breathtaking sight.”

The Lord Commander is completely floored by the Churning Mists, that much is clear. For a moment he looks like he forgets why they are here, similar to how he had reacted to passing Sohm Al with the help of Vidofnir’s broodmates. He brushes his hair out of his face and sticks his head into the wind.

If they weren’t here to gain Hraesveglr’s support in the upcoming battle against Nidhogg, the Warrior is certain someone would have teased him for it. Even now he looks exhausted courtesy of the heavy rings under his eyes and his face looking somehow hollow.

He doesn’t say anything else until they take a break before speaking to Hraesvelgr. It eerily reminds them of when they had been here with Aymeric and Ysayle what seemed like a lifetime ago, and once Alphinaud falls asleep they poke a stick into the fire.

Surprisingly enough, it is Estinien who once more initiates the conversation.

“Do you truly believe he will help us?”

They tilt their head at the man, and he sighs, deeply so.

“As member of the Temple Knights the first thing you learn in situations like these is… to take down the brother who ingested dragon blood. Whether willingly or on accident. And you know what? I feel nothing but shame for having _tried_ it back then.”

He draws a hand through his hair with a sigh when they ask him if that means he intends to kill Aymeric.

“No.” He turns to look up at the sky. “I… couldn’t. If I had just tried harder back then, I could have injured Nidhogg. Perhaps even taken him down – we mortals are surprisingly fragile compared to a dragon, after all. But I didn’t. I _couldn’t._ Is that how the Lord Commander is to act? To value a single life more than that of his entire nation?”

They shake their head slowly and ask what this is supposed to mean.

“That I am unfit as Lord Commander. Though I would have also been unfit as Azure Dragoon, ‘ere you ask.” A sigh. “Maybe in another life I would want the revenge for my parents that Aymeric wanted underneath all these layers. But… even through all that anger, he’s still the same he was back when we joined up to track down a dragon that wiped out our entire battalion against our better judgement. The same… fool who believes that even the bloodthirsty stranger has a good side. The idiot who accepted the leader of the heretics as travelling companion when anyone else would have had her head on a pike within hours – or at least contested her and her beliefs all the way up to here. That dragon, or whatever it really is that took possession of him? That is his anger amplified beyond our reckoning. That’s… a creature that lost all his other traits. All the grief for those comrades lost. All the determination in the face of danger. All the pride whenever trainees were chosen by a Soul Crystal. All the… fun we had, whether it was him taking way too long to choose a single pot of birch syrup or me getting dragged to my father while he laughed in the background.”

A short pause, then Estinien’s head droops.

“All he really wanted was revenge for his parents, and for Ishgard to become a better nation. He was… so overjoyed to have us working with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Called it a step in the right direction to ending the war and the silence between us and the other members of the Eorzean Alliance. And he was right. But he’s not here to see it happening and that… that’s just...”

The man falls silent after this, his energy likely spent from just talking about this. The Warrior of Light continues poking their stick into the fire silently.

Tomorrow they will know more. Whether there was a way to save this man under the anger.

Or not.

* * *

The Steps of Faith.

The first battle they fought officially on the side of Ishgard had taken place here.

The first journey across them were etched into their heart forevermore, the howling winds befitting the grim journey they, Alphinaud and Tataru took.

The last time they crossed them it was alongside the others who had won in that Grand Company match, all cheering and whooping and proud of their achievements.

The last battle they fought officially on Ishgard’s side had also taken place here.

The wyrm inside a man’s body roars; no matter how hard-fought the victory, against a dragon it all seems so pointless. Even now he continues to struggle, continues to writhe and rage against his imminent loss. The Horde will not retreat until its leader either lies dead or finally passes on to the Lifestream. That much is clear. But Alphinaud tries time and time again to approach the Azure Dragoon – the only thing azure about him is the earring somehow still attached to him in one piece.

But time and time again Alphinaud gets swatted back, and even once the Warrior joins in, none of them can approach the dragon on the verge of recovering.

It happens just as fast as everything at Falcon’s nest had taken place.

Aymeric – Nidhogg – stands. He raises his weapon, likely in preparation for another one of these blasts. Then something passes Alphinaud and them, and all Alphinaud can do is let out a startled gasp.

Before anyone could react, Estinien had jumped in and closed all distance between him and the dragon in the Azure Dragoon’s body.

It is an ironic echo of the way he had bade farewell to Aymeric when they had set out for the Sea of Clouds. Complete with the hand on one shoulder, and the other on the Dragoon’s face. For a startlingly long moment, Estinien and Aymeric stare at one another in silence. Then Aymeric’s face softens a little. Just a little.

For a moment, Azure Dragoon and Lord Commander look at each other as fondly as they always do.

Alphinaud lets out a shriek when Aymeric’s face contorts again. The sound of tearing flesh is so awful that the Warrior nearly shrieks with him. But Estinien doesn’t move from his position, not even with Aymeric’s sword sticking out of his back.

There’s a low cough.

“Aymeric. I know you’re in there.”

And once more Nidhogg freezes.

“I know you’re… angry. Hurting. What your… bastard of a father did… it wasn’t right. But, Aymeric. You’ve… you had won. The dragon that killed your parents… it was dead. Is dead. This isn’t you. … This isn’t Nidhogg either. He wanted revenge for his sister. You wanted revenge for your parents. … You both achieved your goals. You when you… took him down. He when… the Warrior of Light took down Thordan and we corrected history.”

For a moment, time stands still. Agonisingly slowly the Dragoon’s eyes move downward. Then the Lord Commander clenches his teeth and drags himself further down the sword until he can rest his head against Aymeric’s chest.

“Stop this nonsense. Ishgard’s… free. Like you always wanted it to be. Like we… promised...”

He says something else, something that neither of the two Scions can hear. The Azure Dragoon violently shivers, a strange sound escaping him.

It’s enough to break the spell. Alphinaud and the Warrior lunge forward and grab the eyes on the armour. In another other situation it would have been met with failure. But even as they lunge forward, they feel like they aren’t alone. Haurchefant and Ysayle; Estinien and Aymeric. They all but tear the eyes off, and in the blink of a moment they toss them into the abyss surrounding the Steps of Faith. For a moment time stands still again.

The next thing they hear is an agonised scream that tears through the dust of battle around them. See the man they had just freed drop his sword – and with his sword drops the Lord Commander. He staggers for a moment before dropping to his knees, before his shaking hands stop just a bit away from the other’s face.

Whatever Aymeric is muttering they cannot hear. All they see is his hands shaking harder and harder until he finally drops his arms.

“Estinien.”

No answer.

“Estinien, please, you cannot… not like _this...”_

Alphinaud has to turn away from this miserable scene. From the sounds of it he is either on the verge of tears himself – or on the verge of throwing up. Considering all the trauma he went through since that fateful night in Ul’dah, it likely is the latter.

Aymeric de Borel lets out a howl.

The Dragonsong War is over.


End file.
